Smoak Rising
by FelOllie
Summary: A "Where There's Smoak There's Fire" sequel.
1. New Beginnings

Author's Note: Hey lovelies! So, I know that I've been pretty absent from fandom. However, my love for writing (and these two) has not cooled. This follow-up has been long overdue, but I couldn't bring myself to write until recently. I am slowly trying to work my way back into it, and this felt like the perfect place to start.

I'm not exactly sure how long this will be, so bear with me. I hope you all enjoy it, though, however long it turns out to be.

Anyway, without droning on and on, I give you: Where There's Smoak There's Fire, Part 2!

* * *

The night was still and calm, the sun long set and the moon hanging high in a velvet ink sky. The brook behind the house bubbled and chattered away serenely, filling the silence left by the absence of their usual warm weather-loving wildlife. Chilly air whispered across the open fields surrounding the house, not as bitterly cold as it could be for the time of year, but cool enough. Even in California, February tended to usher in biting temperatures and the occasional snowfall. They'd been lucky so far, but Felicity could smell snow on the breeze and knew their luck was—in this at least—about to change.

She pulled the plush shawl more securely around her, snuggling deep into the warmth it offered. She could, and probably should have gone inside when the sun went down, but Oliver hadn't gotten home from his patrol by then and Felicity was enjoying the stillness. So, instead of seeking refuge inside she settled more deeply into the porch swing with her shawl and a steaming mug of coffee, and let the night surround her.

Life had been almost normal in the last few years. Rather than nights filled with brutal violence and constant loss, they'd enjoyed days overflowing with happiness and new beginnings. The team still fought the good fight, taking down whatever Big Bad decided to rear its head that week, but those occasions were fewer and further between. Where once they had struggled to find a semblance of normal, the team now flourished and thrived, leading rich and happy lives—Ones that didn't revolve solely around fighting to survive.

Of course, that's not to say life had been perfect. Felicity still struggled with her past, with both the physical and emotional scars each experience left behind. There were days, nights—long stretches of time during which Oliver watched her as though she might break again, simply fall to pieces right then and there. The episodes never lasted more than a week or so at a time, though they'd been slowly tapering off over time. Therapy helped, and so did the anxiety medication Felicity took every night before bed.

Still, she was willing to take some bad with her good; assuming that good stayed so very, very good for the foreseeable future.

"Are you actively trying to get frost bite?"

Felicity startled, almost dropping her mug. She huffed before looking up, her frown melting into a smile at the sight of Oliver striding toward her, gym bag in one hand and a very familiar carseat in the other.

"It's not quite cold enough for frostbite, Oliver," she said, waving him off. "I was just waiting for my husband. Look, I brought a shawl and everything."

Oliver chuckled before leaning in to press a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. "You're going to catch pneumonia out here," he chided softly, using the flat of his palm in the small of her back to urge her inside.

Felicity went willingly, but only after she relieved Oliver of his precious cargo. She headed inside, alternately cooing at the baby girl snoozing peacefully at her hip and babbling over her shoulder at Oliver as he trailed along behind her.

"She's probably going to be hungry when she wakes up," Oliver offered, watching as Felicity set the carseat on the counter. He slid up behind her, pressing his body along her back. He brushed a kiss to the side of her neck before resting his chin in the cradle of her shoulder.

"There's some milk still in the freezer," she told him, gently nudging the fleece blanket down, away from the baby's face. "I'll warm it up."

"I got it."

The sound of Oliver moving around the kitchen stirred the baby awake. Wide gray eyes blinked open slowly while tiny fists found their way into a wet mouth.

"Hey there, gorgeous girl." Felicity smiled warmly, already reaching in to lift her from the carseat. "I've missed you!"

Oliver snorted softly behind her. "It's been three days, Felicity."

"Three days too long," she parried back, peppering kisses over chubby cheeks. "Your mommy and daddy have been holding out on me, Lo Lo."

"Well, we have her for the night," Oliver informed her, leaning back against the counter to watch them while the bottle warmed. "Roy has a shift, and I figured Thea could probably use the sleep."

"Good," Felicity murmured, tucking the baby to her chest and pressing her nose into soft brown hair. After a moment she added, "Do you think they'd be angry if I refused to give her back?"

"Probably."

His eyes were warm puddles of affection as he watched them, Felicity swaying in place while Sloane curled contentedly beneath her chin. Felicity beamed at him. She knew she was radiating happiness and adoration for their niece, and didn't bother trying to hide it. Oliver already knew she was head over heels for babies, especially Sloane, Devon, and Digg and Lyla's newest addition, Sara. There was no point in pretending she could maintain any kind of chill when faced with tiny humans.

"Here." Oliver handed over the bottle. "Give her that, I'll go make sure the crib is made up."

* * *

There was something incredibly soothing about watching a baby sleep. From Felicity's vantage point in the nursery doorway, Sloane appeared to have settled in just fine. Though her expression had smoothed into one of peaceful slumber, her delicate fists remained clenched seriously, even in sleep. Felicity listened to the gentle breathy sounds emanating from the crib. If she allowed herself, she could stand there all night, just watching Sloane sleep.

By the time she managed to tear herself away and wander down the hall to their bedroom, Oliver was already there. He had sprawled out carelessly on his stomach, his ever-impressive body on full display in nothing but a pair of dark briefs. He'd manage to take up the biggest chunk of the center of the king-size, one knee bent up and arms tucked up by the pillows. Felicity smiled to herself as she entered the room, allowing her gaze to linger over the delicious specimen her husband presented.

"I can still feel that."

Felicity laughed. His voice was sleepy and rough, but something in him remained, as always, attuned to her.

"I still don't care," she told him, shrugging when he lifted his head just enough to glance in her direction.

"Lo go down easy?"

Felicity snorted, shuffling into one of Oliver's t-shirts. "She was perfect, as usual. Never met an infant that didn't scream bloody murder at bedtime. That girl defies all baby-logic."

"She certainly is one of a kind."

Oliver shifted, his arms opening to welcome Felicity when she climbed into bed beside him. She settled easily against him, shoving one leg between both of his and resting her head on his chest, her fingers seeking out his arrowhead pendant automatically.

"Do you think our babies will be as calm as she is?" Felicity wondered aloud, the pad of her thumb mindlessly caressing the body-warmed metal. "Maybe it's a Queen thing. It can't be from Roy's side; I'm pretty sure the notion of calm is completely foreign to him."

Oliver's chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. "Says the woman who thrives in chaos."

" _Organized_ chaos," she corrected, nipping at his pec with playful teeth. "There is a method to my madness. You know this."

"I do."

He shifted again, this time rolling sideways and pinning Felicity beneath him. She sighed blissfully, his weight above her and his fingers threading through her hair.

"To be completely honest," Oliver continued, "it doesn't matter one way or the other to me if our kids are calm or chaotic. I don't care if we have boys or girls, if they're blonde like me or brunette like—"

"Watch it!"

"Like Thea," Oliver finished, eyes twinkling with humor.

Felicity giggled and tried to roll away, but Oliver's bulk pressed her gently back. Her gaze sought his. Where a moment before humor had danced in his eyes like fireflies in July, there was something raw and honest swirling there now.

Oliver's voice was gritty, but it did nothing to detract from the sincerity in his words. "None of that stuff means anything to me, Felicity. Our children can be whoever or whatever they want, and I will adore them every single day of their lives. Do you want to know why?"

Felicity swallowed hard, but nodded.

"Because they'll be ours," he said softly. "They'll be half of you, Felicity, and I could never love something that has even the smallest piece of you with anything less than everything I am."

Vision pricking with moisture, Felicity reached for him. She cupped her palms lovingly at the hinges of his jaw and smiled sweetly.

"Your going to be a wonderful father."

"I will, I promise you," he vowed. "The moment you decide you're ready to try, nothing else will be more important to me than proving that to you."

"Oh, Oliver."

Felicity's heart felt too big for its cage. It made her throat swell, like a dam holding back the tidal wave of affection surging through her.

They'd discussed it several times in the years following the nightmare that pushed them to confront their feelings for one another. Though becoming a mother was still one of her deepest desires, Felicity and Oliver agreed that time was necessary. Too much was still fresh, still held too much power over them. Being a mother wasn't something Felicity could commit to, at least not until the week-long episodes of pain and grief came further apart, or ceased to exist as anything more than passing memories.

When Sloane was born, Felicity saw the way Oliver was affected. He looked at his niece like she held every secret in the known universe in her eyes. There was so much love, such unspoiled adoration written in his expression when Sloane was in his arms. Felicity wondered then, and not for the first time, if maybe, just maybe, she was ready. If she was strong enough then to be the mother every child deserved.

"What is it, what's wrong?"

Felicity resisted the immediate urge to deny anything was weighing on her. Instead, she swallowed down the trepidation and forced herself to speak.

"I think… I think I'm strong enough now."

Confusion clouded Oliver's expression for the briefest moment before it cleared. His eyes widened, lips pulling up just a hint on each side.

"You're serious?" he asked, his voice a near perfect blend of awe and fear, as though he were desperately afraid to let himself believe.

She chewed her bottom lip, nodding. "We've come a long way, especially in the last few months. I haven't had an episode in almost a year, and Dr. Collins thinks it's the right time to work on weaning me off the meds. Do you…" She frowned up at him. "Do you disagree?"

"No!" Oliver was quick to assure. "Felicity, I've always known you were strong. There has never been a single moment of doubt in my mind that you would be an amazing mother to our children."

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his touch tender and careful.

"I've just been waiting for you to know it too."

The moisture that prickled at her eyes now flooded them. She blinked it away and pushed up onto her elbows, fusing her mouth to his. When the kiss broke Felicity smiled, eyes wet but bright.

"How did I manage to land such a perfect husband?"

Oliver grinned at her teasing. "Just lucky, I guess."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't say she disagreed. "I love you, you know; More than I ever wanted to love another person."

"No one on this Earth has ever loved anyone more."

Felicity knew he meant it. Hell, she was sure he was at least half right. No one had ever loved her the way he did, not even close. But she also knew that, no matter how much they loved one another, it would pale in comparison to the love they would have for their children.

"Felicity?"

She hadn't realized how long she'd been silent, not until she heard the concern in his voice. She didn't need words to tell him not to worry (they'd never needed words), but she used them anyway.

"Let's do it, Oliver. Let's make a baby."


	2. Call It A Headstart

Author's note: Hey lovelies! First, I want to thank you all for the amazing response to this fic. I know a lot of you are loyal readers, coming here from the original WTSTF, and I adore you for it. Then there are those of you who just happened across this in your quest for more Olicity, and I have to tell you that I am ridiculously thankful that you gave my writing a chance.

With that being said, have some cute stuff and some porn!

* * *

Felicity's office was on the top floor of the Applied Sciences building, its massive picture window overlooking the courtyard below. Unlike Oliver's office in the original QC building across the way, her office was warm. It was lacking in the sharp edges and sterile surfaces Oliver's office boasted, made up instead in bright colors and soft lines.

Felicity's desk was her favorite part of the office. It was old but well-loved, its wooden surface worn smooth in places and pockmarked in others, where the previous owners left their mark. Though on the surface the desk was scarred and flawed, that only made her love it more.

She sat behind it, heels kicked off and hidden away beneath. Her lunch date with Oliver was already running late, thanks in no small part to the pile of paperwork littering her desk, but she couldn't leave her staff to fend for themselves alone without at least completing her portion of the work.

Since Charlie retired, Felicity had been occupying the title of Department Head of the Applied Sciences Division at Queen Consolidated. The promotion meant she was no longer Oliver's Executive Assistant—a job she missed but felt comfortable leaving in the capable hands of his new assistant, a friend of Roy and Thea who went only by the name Sin.

Though Felicity remained the active liaison between her department and the company as a whole, she most often found herself drowning in the duties associated with both positions. Despite Oliver's search for a suitable replacement, in order to lighten the load Felicity bore, they'd yet to find a candidate they could agree on. Unfortunately, that usually meant Felicity got stuck behind her desk the majority of the time she was at the office.

When Oliver appeared in her doorway, Felicity threw him an apologetic smile.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry!" she apologized. "Give me fifteen minutes and I swear, I'm all yours."

He lowered himself into one of the purple club chairs opposite her desk, shaking his head. "Take your time. Believe it or not, setting our own hours is one of the perks of being the boss."

"You're the boss, Mr. Queen," Felicity teased. "I am but a lowly employee."

"There has never been anything lowly about you, Mrs. Queen," Oliver returned. "And I would argue your employment status, but it seems pretty obvious who holds the reigns around here."

"Yeah, boss lady, we all know you're the one wielding the whip."

Felicity swung her attention to the door, her grin spreading when she saw Roy there.

"I let him hold it sometimes."

"Aaaaand, ew."

Roy's grimace made Oliver chuckle. "What can we do for you, Roy?"

"You can start by never divulging that much information about your sex life, ever again."

"This from the guy who announced he knocked up his wife in a pool in Switzerland." Felicity pointed out.

Though trying to appear contrite, Roy mostly failed. His smirk was far too proud.

"I was just trying to help."

Oliver hummed his disbelief, but his eyes gave away his amusement.

"Thank you, Roy, but I'm sure Felicity and I can figure it out ourselves."

"Whatever, man. I'm just saying—you're not as young as you used to be. You might need all the help you can get. In fact, I know a guy who can hook you up with some Cialis-"

"If you finish that sentence, I will hang you out that window."

"Did you actually need something, Roy?" Felicity interrupted. "Or did you walk all the way up here to flirt with my husband?"

Roy plopped down on the corner of her desk and dropped a folder in front of her. "I need your signature on this acquisition form for the new Kevlar panels."

Felicity scratched her signature down and handed the paper back to him. "Don't melt these ones."

Roy donned an expression of mock-outrage. "I would never!" he said, hand over his heart as he headed for the door.

By the time they finally managed to leave Felicity's office, the lunch hour they'd assigned themselves had come and gone. They opted for a small café down the block, and had just settled in with drinks when Oliver's cell chirped.

Felicity only heard half of the conversation, but from Oliver's end it sounded like the call had more to do with their Arrow duties than corporate ones.

"Everything okay?"

Oliver slipped the phone back into his breast pocket, a line creasing his brows. "Not sure yet," he told her. "Diggle needs us at the house."

Ignoring the noisy rumbles her stomach was making, Felicity pushed back from the table and stood.

"Okay, but we have to stop for take out."

* * *

Feeling full, and therefore much more agreeable, Felicity followed Oliver through the concealed entrance to their lair. The door was hidden behind a false wall in the kitchen pantry, so she snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator on her way through. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found Digg and Lyla already waiting.

"Please tell me this is a happy meeting."

"Sorry, sweetheart," Lyla called, her gaze fixed on the computer screen in front of her. "We've got a problem."

"Of course we do." She sank into a chair and rolled it beside Lyla. "Okay, lay it on me."

"There was a murder in the Glades last night." Digg informed them.

Oliver cocked a brow. "I would be more surprised if there weren't."

"Normally, I would agree," Lyla said, swinging around to face them. "In this particular instance, though, it's the doers methods and motivations that we're interested in."

"And those would be…"

Lyla cast a sideways glance at her husband, who nodded. She produced a folder from somewhere, handing it off to Oliver with a small wince.

"What is it?" Felicity asked, trying to peer over at the pages.

Digg watched Oliver like one watches the timer on an explosive device—with knowing apprehension.

A muscle in Oliver's jaw ticked. "Where did we get this?"

"Straight from the Commissioner himself."

"Lance gave us this?" Felicity questioned, unable to mask her surprise.

Since Quentin stepped into the role of Starling City Police Commissioner two years ago, he'd only forwarded them a handful of cases. He still chose to let his officers handle the majority of crime within the city, only recruiting their team when legal boundaries tied their hands.

"It must be bad, if he needs our help."

Oliver scrubbed a hand down his face. "You could say that."

Felicity took the manila folder he offered her. She took a deep breath before flipping it open to view its contents. She was glad she did.

Inside the folder were images of a murder scene. The photographs were clear and crisp, the resolution unnecessarily excellent. The body was horrifically beaten, its face beyond recognition, brown hair a matted, bloodied mess. Felicity's stomach clenched around the lunch she'd just put in there.

"Oh my god," she breathed, lifting a hand to cover her mouth.

Flipping through the images, Felicity stopped on one in particular. It showed the victim, which she could now tell was a woman, lying in a mess of her own blood. She was discarded in an alley, treated with no more reverence than one would afford a sack of trash. Her clothes were torn and stained, though they appeared quite expensive. In fact, Felicity owned the exact same skirt.

Her stomach twisted.

"Do you see something?"

"No, nothing," she hedged. "It's just… Well, I have the same skirt in my closet upstairs."

Oliver's body tightened obviously. "You're sure?"

Felicity nodded absently, returning her attention to the photos. She flipped to the next image. This one showed the victim's body on a slab in the morgue, all traces of blood washed from her pallid, waxen skin. A sheet was draped over the body, folded down to expose it from the hips, up.

"Is that-"

Felicity squinted but couldn't make out what she was seeing. Something appeared to have been carved into the woman's skin, but the angle of the image made it difficult to decipher. Turning to the next image, this one affording a much clearer angle, Felicity felt her stomach lurch up into her throat.

She barely made it to the bathroom before her lunch made an encore appearance. Oliver was beside her in an instant, pulling her hair away from her face and rubbing soothing circles over her back while she wretched.

When she was through, Oliver handed her a bottle of water and a spare toothbrush. His concerned eyes were overpowered only by the angry set of his jaw.

"I'm alright."

"I'm not."

Felicity met his eyes, too many thoughts clamoring for attention inside her head for her to focus.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Felicity led him back to where she'd dropped the photographs, uncomfortably aware of the gazes fixed on her. She scooped up the pile and attempted to put them back in some kind of order, giving up when Oliver reached out to still her shaking hands.

"Felicity."

"When was the body discovered?"

"Monday night," Lyla supplied.

"ID?"

"Hope Rogers, 24," Digg read off from the folder. "She was an Atlantic City transplant, working on a Computer Sciences degree from SCU."

Eyes once more landing on the last image, Felicity tamped down on the nauseated feeling bubbling in her throat.

"And this?" she queried, showing them the photograph.

Oliver took the picture from her, glaring hard at it. "It could mean anything."

"Oliver, be realistic," Felicity said, tone sharp. "Someone carved a bow and arrow into this woman's thigh. Do you seriously want to argue this has nothing to do with us?"

* * *

"How's your stomach?"

Felicity sipped from her can of ginger ale, frowning at the question.

"You've seen thousands of crime scene photos, not to mention the things you've seen in the field," Oliver began, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her. "You've lived through Hell on Earth, but I've never seen you lose it like that."

Frowning harder still, Felicity set the can down and ran a shaky hand through hair she'd only just released from its bindings.

"It's been a long time since an attack was so blatantly directed at us," she finally decided.

After all, the last time they'd been targets… Well, there were a fair amount of years between them and the nightmare Count Vertigo had set in motion, and maybe they'd gotten a little too comfortable with that distance.

"It caught me off guard, that's all."

Oliver's expression conveyed exactly how little comfort that gave him. "We don't know anything for sure. It might mean nothing."

"Oliver."

She was all for optimism, but pragmatism resided in her core. It would be foolish to deny what was right in front of them.

He growled, low and rumbling in his chest. "We don't know!"

"It's a bow and arrow, Oliver. Symbols that hold so much significance in our lives, and you think it's a coincidence?"

Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyelids, Oliver's voice rose. "No!" he almost shouted, his body nearly vibrating with ill-suppressed tension. "Of course it means something. I'm just not ready to declare it an act of war."

Felicity shook her head, disagreement ready to roll right off her tongue.

Oliver interrupted her before she could even get started. He stepped into her space, bracketing her in with his arms until she had no choice but to lean back against the island counter. Her eyes lifted to his, his worry apparent in the gleam she saw there.

"Let's just try to not freak out until we know what it means, okay?" he murmured, voice much gentler than his stormy mood should allow.

Her eyes fluttered closed when Oliver's hand lifted to her jaw, his calloused skin so familiar and comforting where it met hers.

"Promise me."

Felicity lifted her lids, pinning him with red-rimmed eyes. She wanted to argue with him, to tell him how much anxiety had already taken root inside her chest, but found she couldn't bring herself to put any more strain around those beautiful blues.

Instead, she sighed wearily and let her forehead thunk down against his chest.

"Promise."

* * *

Punching the gearshift into park, Felicity slammed her fists against the steering wheel in frustration. She squeaked with indignant surprise when the horn blared, before quickly shushing it. Glancing up, she saw an elderly gentleman eyeballing her suspiciously as he made his way past the front of her Range Rover. She smiled weakly, praying it didn't look even half as wobbly as it felt.

She wasn't sure what she'd done recently to deserve the kind of karma the Universe was currently spewing pointedly in her direction, but she was beyond ready to tap out.

Since the moment her feet hit the floor that morning the world felt cold and conspiring. Oliver was already gone, leaving her to wake up alone, which always seemed to set her off just slightly on the wrong foot. One toe stub and a half-dozen nicks with a razor told Felicity she should've just crawled back into bed and called it a day. But the day ahead was full to overflowing with meetings, a much anticipated doctor's appointment, and one too many projects, so she forced herself to shove through it.

She wasn't sure if it was the flat tire Diggle had to help fix before she could even leave the house, or the spilled latté staining her white slacks that finally made tears well and burn her throat, but she slammed the horn once more for good measure and then climbed out.

Brushing away tears as she went, Felicity climbed the seven steps to Thea and Roy's front door. It swung open before she could insert her key, startling her. Roy's slim frame filled the doorway, Sloane tucked to his chest.

He blinked at the dark stain in her lap, cocking one brow when he lifted his gaze. "Rough morning?"

"I didn't even get to drink any of it," she pouted.

Roy chuckled and waived her in behind him. "I just started a pot."

Felicity followed him inside, unable to stop the smile blooming across her face when Sloane blew raspberries over her father's shoulder.

"You're going to hand over that baby, and nobody's gonna get hurt."

"Go change first," Roy directed, pointing toward the stairs. "Thea already left, but she left something out on the bed."

Felicity returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, hands smoothing over the black skirt now dancing around her thighs. Roy didn't even look up when she swooped in and scooped Sloane out of his embrace, immediately burying her nose in the baby's hair.

"I needed that," she sighed, carrying the wriggling infant with her to pour herself a cup of the coffee Roy mentioned.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Felicity mumbled, pressing her cheek to the top of Sloane's head.

Roy nodded and went right back to pouring over the specs for a new line of body armor, tuning her out almost entirely. He didn't ask about the nightmares, or how she was handling the change in her meds. He didn't ask why she came to him instead of Digg, or Lyla, or even Oliver. He didn't ask anything at all; he simply accepted it all and went back to his morning as though nothing had changed.

Felicity smiled, feeling calm for the first time all morning.

Her good mood carried her through the day. Despite a rocky day in the Applied Sciences department and an appointment with her OB/GYN she was uncharacteristically nervous to attend, Felicity was still smiling when she let herself into the house that night. It was empty, with Oliver still at the office and the team in their respective homes, so Felicity swiped a hand over a panel in the wall, fingers dancing for a moment before music poured through the house.

The soft lilting of a piano followed her as she made her way around the house, stripping away remnants of the day as she went. Her shoes were the first to go, lying scattered in the entryway hall. The borrowed skirt slithered to a stop on the staircase as she climbed, her pink blouse just a moment behind. Felicity waited until she reached the bathroom to let her bra fall from her arms, leaving it carelessly behind her in the hallway.

The thin scraps of cotton and lace making up her panties were the last to go. She stepped out of them and directly into the giant soaking tub taking up half of their bathroom, letting the hot, bubble filled water surround her. It seeped into her muscles, loosening them until even her bones felt soft and languid.

After a while, the music swirling through the house shifted into something lighter and full of life. Felicity tapped a toe against the side of the tub, sloshing bubbles around with each move. There were no words accompanying the happy notes, though that hardly stopped her from humming along.

Time must have gotten away from her, because the next time she opened her eyes it was to find a grinning Oliver, deliciously disheveled and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sitting on the edge of the tub. One of his hands was trailing through the mound of bubbles pushing up the sides.

"I didn't want to interrupt," he said, fingertips gliding across the surface of the water. "You looked so content."

Felicity smiled, leaning forward to pull her knees to her chest. "I feel it, oddly enough," she shrugged. "I thought for sure I'd be a mess of stress and anxiety, but I feel okay."

"How was your appointment?" Oliver asked, while divesting himself of his already loosened tie. The way he asked it was offhand, like their whole future didn't hinge on it having gone well.

"It was mostly preliminary," she explained, watching Oliver's fingers work at the buttons of his shirt. "Some blood work, a standard pelvic. The results should be in tomorrow, but Doctor McCall seems very optimistic."

Oliver's hands stilled halfway down his chest, eyes seeking hers. "Does that mean…"

Felicity beamed and nodded vigorously, joy swelling up like a blimp behind her sternum.

"We can start trying."

Oliver lunged for her, a whoop of celebration on his lips even as he joined her in the tub. Felicity squealed with laughter, clutching at him to stop him from sliding completely beneath the water. He emerged sporting a truly impressive bubble-stache and a sparkling smile, making Felicity's stomach flutter.

She reached for him, cupping his jaw so she could press their smiles together. Oliver pulled her into the V of his still-clothed thighs, fingers splayed wide around her waist.

"We're really going to do this," he said, soft and full of wonder. "You're going to carry our baby."

Felicity shivered, her skin erupting in delighted goosebumps when he spread a wide palm over her flat belly.

"Our baby."

It was hardly more than a whisper, but those two words held more meaning than almost any she'd ever uttered.

Oliver surged forward, dragging their mouths together once more. Felicity melted into him and wrapped her arms eagerly around his shoulders, letting him lift her into his lap. Her legs wound around him, gripping his ribs with her thighs while he mouthed at the pale column of her throat.

She arched against him, damp hair falling in a curtain down her back. Oliver's hands smoothed up her sides. Felicity moved restlessly against him, biting back an appreciative groan when he gripped her by the back of her neck and pulled, grinding up as he held her down.

"I'm going to take you apart, Felicity," Oliver murmured, snaring her with the intensity burning in his eyes. "Piece by piece, inch by breathtaking inch—I am going to pull you apart, until you're trembling and begging me to stop."

A hard shudder ripped through Felicity at his words, making her lungs tighten. Her breaths came in short, ragged bursts.

Oliver's teeth flashed his pleasure at her body's immediate reaction. He gripped her with firm hands at her hips, lifting them both upright. He moved quickly but carefully, lifting her and stepping out of the bath. Sudsy water trailed them through to the bedroom, but neither of them paid it any mind.

Oliver set her down gently on the bed, immediately climbing up after her. His clothes were sopping and cold when he slipped in between her legs, making her jolt when the crotch of his slacks made contact with her naked core.

"Jesus, you're freezing," Felicity scolded quietly.

"Stop turning the thermostat down then."

He was teasing her and all she wanted—truly, desperately wanted—was for him to get his lips back on hers and his clothes on the floor.

"Take off your pants," she ordered, her heels already attempting to drag them down his hips.

Oliver laughed, the sound thick and lazy with warmth. He reared back onto his knees so he could get at his belt but Felicity batted his hands away and dragged it open herself. She barely managed to get the zipper down and the button undone before she slipped her hand inside, cupping him through the fabric of his briefs.

A sharp hiss through his teeth and Oliver was letting his head hang down, groaning as he canted his hips into her touch.

"Fuck, Felicity."

She tightened her grip, increasing the tempo of her strokes. Her teeth found their way to the deep cut of his pelvis, her lips and tongue immediately sliding in to ease the sting. Oliver's hands tunneled through her hair and he tugged, hard enough that Felicity released his skin with a pop and had to crane her neck back to see his face.

His eyes were blown dark, jaw clenched hard beneath his day-old stubble.

Felicity wanted to lick it. His stubble, his jaw—that throbbing vein in the side of his throat. She was overcome with the burning desire to get her mouth on every inch of his hardened body.

Oliver pulled her up to meet him, crushing her mouth beneath his. They tumbled together back onto the now damp blankets, Oliver's hands beside her head the only obstacles to him crushing her with his weight. Felicity found herself eagerly watching as he reached between his shoulders and dragged the limp button-up off over his head. No sooner was it gone before Felicity got her hands back on his skin. She let them rove over every bump and scar, every ridge of his stomach before she moved on.

Getting his pants off was usually as simple as blinking and then *Poof*-they were gone. Unfortunately, the impromptu bubble bath made the clingy fabric of his slacks even more so. Felicity finally succeeded in wrestling them down to his knees, but Oliver's hot breath at the shell of her ear hindered more than it helped.

"Want to be inside you, Felicity. Feel so good wrapped around me, opening up for me so beautifully. The way you take my cock, so eager… So desperate."

She was dizzy with sensation, her mind overwhelmed by his words and her body lighting up with his every touch. The way he brushed his mouth to her throat made her pulse skitter. His hands ghosting up the planes of her belly, the swell of her hips, made her core throb and ache.

"Oliver, please."

"Not yet, sweet girl," he soothed, pressing the words into one of the scars on her hip. "Not until I've had my fill."

He moved lower, the stubble dotting his cheeks creating a delicious drag between her thighs. She bit her bottom lip and threw her head back, shoving up into the feeling of his lips at the crease of her hip and thigh. A tremor wracked through her when his tongue darted out to lick a line from the bottom of her slit to the pulsing nub of her clit.

She hissed out profanities, her hands twisting in his hair of their own accord. Oliver continued his erotic assault, lashing at her dripping entrance with the point of his tongue, running the length of it with his tongue pressed flat and wide. His lips captured her clit and tugged gently, and Felicity's hips bucked up off the mattress.

Oliver, apparently objecting to her still being able to move, threw her legs over his shoulders and pinned her hips down. He resumed his ministrations, pushing two fingers into her slick heat just to be sure he completely ruined her.

"Talk to me, Felicity," Oliver coaxed, meeting her eyes over the swell of her breasts. He rasped a damp kiss to the thigh beside his head, biting a little just to hear her gasp. "Let me hear you."

The rapid-fire fluttering in her stomach had morphed into a full blown hurricane centered mostly in her hips. Every thrust of his fingers against her silken walls, every swirl of his tongue and graze of his teeth had her head spinning wildly and an orgasm building in her pelvis faster than she could stop it.

"You're gonna make me come," she whimpered, nails biting into his shoulders. "God, your mouth is fucking ridiculous. Why do you use it for anything but this?"

In lieu of a response, Oliver pushed himself up onto his knees, taking her with him and burying his face in the slippery folds of her sex.

"Fuck!" Felicity panted, her body folded mostly in half (a fact she found herself not caring too much about, not when it opened her body up for him so thoroughly).

She was entranced by the sight of him, his lush mouth wet and enthusiastic in its mission. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, watching her thrash and moan and scream her orgasm loud enough to rival the music still pouring from the speakers.

He set her back down carefully, then prowled up her body to bury his face in her throat. Felicity reached out blindly, finding his face and pulling it up to meet hers. There was no finesse in the way she kissed him, but he didn't seem to mind. His hands were already roaming over her curves, even as he fucked into her mouth with his tongue.

She clawed at his shoulders, his back, his ass—any part of him she could reach. She felt crazed, nearly feverish. In that moment she could think of nothing other than getting his cock inside her. She needed to feel him from the inside out, needed him to take her hard and rough and thorough.

"Now, Oliver," she whined, reaching between them to fist his rigid flesh. "I need it now. Please."

"Shhh," he said softly, brushing damp hair away from her face. "I know exactly what you need."

And then he was sinking into her, so slowly it made tears spring to her eyes. She writhed beneath him, trying to take more of him. Oliver shifted his position and then pushed back inside. Felicity cried out, nails digging crescent moons into Oliver's shoulder blades.

Her body felt stretched and full, the kind of whole she only felt when he was inside her. They moved together, Oliver pushing while she pulled, their bodies moving in a slow, practiced dance. Every deliberate thrust of his hips brought her higher and higher, another release coiling tight in her belly.

Her body flushed hot and cold as Oliver increased his rhythm. The steady roll of his hips pushed a litany of sounds out of her throat, each one more frantic and strained than the last.

"Hold on to me tight," he ordered, voice gritty.

She dutifully tightened her thighs around him, digging her heels into the high rounds of his ass. Oliver braced himself on his elbows on either side of her head, using his weight as leverage to fuck her into the mattress. Felicity scrabbled at his sweaty skin, finally finding purchase by hooking her arms under his and anchoring herself with his shoulders.

Oliver drove into her hard, pounding her body with his own. Felicity could do little more than ride it out, let him split her open and rip her orgasm from somewhere deep, deep inside. It exploded out of her in a sudden, blinding burst of pleasure strong enough to make her vision grey out at the edges.

Oliver followed her down after just a few more thrusts, the long line of his back going rigid when he emptied himself into her. Felicity pushed a limp hand into his hair, grounding him. He collapsed above her, fitting himself along the front of her body until they were both comfortable.

After a long, silent moment spent trying to get her breathing under control, Felicity giggled softly. Oliver lifted question eyes to hers and she shrugged.

"I never begged you to stop."

Oliver's mouth tugged up on one side, but he slipped a hand between them, dipping one finger into her entrance. He smirked cockily when she gasped, and pushed deeper, feeling the way his come made her impossibly slick.

"Oh, Felicity," he murmured, watching her eyes roll back. "I am nowhere near done with you yet."


End file.
